


Crimson Muse

by onlythemostbeautiful



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-03
Updated: 2016-06-20
Packaged: 2018-04-07 10:34:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 16,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4260072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onlythemostbeautiful/pseuds/onlythemostbeautiful
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a triumphant debut, Petyr Baelish is hailed as the hottest new designer in the fashion world.<br/>With lions as investors he knows his latest collection needs to be a smashing success but despite his talent, Petyr feels he is missing one thing. A face for his brand.<br/>He needs a muse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Edited chapter a bit. Thanks to smokeandstark I realized I needed some music in there.
> 
> Petyr's thoughts are in italics.
> 
> Music lyrics are bolded and in italics.

They were calling him the new Karl Lagerfeld.

_Imbeciles_

If comparisons were to be made his flamboyant style was closer to Gianni Versace but all in all he was a visionary and he preferred to be recognized in his own right. 

He was Petyr Baelish. Not the new whoever. PETYR BAELISH and that should be enough.  
One day it would be but for now he would smile and take the juxtapositions as compliments and force false modesty.  
  
_Fuck modesty._  
  
He was a cocky bastard and why not? He was a genius and all-around a magnificent mutherfucker.  
  
_Fabulous in bed too but they didn’t know that_.  


Petyr signed and inspected his manicured nails as the elevator climbed to the top of the skyscraper.  
  
His royal blue pinstripe suit with red thread running through was impeccably cut and tailored. Black shirt, red diamond tie, matching red pocket square, red socks and black Italian loafers completed the look. His mockingbird pin and matching mockingbird cuffs shone proudly.

It was all practically conservative for him but he had investors coming in today. They’d still kiss his ass though but a lot more willingly in this outfit than his hot pink pimp getup with pink hat trimmed with purple feathers. He liked to wear that outfit with a long white fur coat and accessorize it with a pimp cane. He still remembered Tywin Lannister’s face when he saw that one.  
Petyr chuckled deeply.

At last the elevator dinged and opened up to the top floor. Stepping out he clicked on his iPod that was tapped into the sound system. **_Beyonce's "Flawless"_** rang out.  
He gave the blonde receptionist a flash of his pearly whites as he walked past. Poor girl barely had time to call out a greeting. As he strolled through the office he saw his assistant racing to the kitchen. She better have already brewed his decaf peppermint tea.

He slowed his pace as he reached the workshop. He liked to swagger in, exaggerate his hips swinging.  
  
**_Bow Down Bitches_** _Hell Yeah_  
  
Some people thought him gay – ask Cersei Lannister – no – “Baratheon” and the rest of their social circle how gay he was. That had been a mistake but she at least she was a hot MILF. _Lysa Arryn however_ …he suppressed a shudder.

 

“No! No! No!”

He walked into the space and could feel exasperation radiating from his favourite redhead.

Ros turned in her seat and greeted him with a scowl. She turned her attention back to the line of male models. One model was pretending to do a catwalk and his gait was awful.

“Where does her agency find these stupid boys?” she huffed.  
  
Petyr cast a disinterested eye over the line up. This fucking menswear collection was starting to become burdensome. When would he have the time for his precious couture show? He lived for dressing and undressing **_women_**.     _Fucking Cersei._

“Call Cersei and tell her to send us a new batch.” He growled.  
  
Ros shot him a look of loathing. “She handpicked these herself. You know she intends for her main diamond to shine bright among these duds.”  
  
Petyr smirked. Sure Joffrey Baratheon was a handsome, tall boy and looked the part but if a model wanted to ascend to the top of the pyramid they needed more than just good looks.  
You had to have a certain allure and presence…Joffrey had all the charisma of a wet noodle. Funny because Jaime Lannister was an asshole but he definitely had appeal.  
Perhaps Joff was Robert Baratheon’s after all. Petyr scoffed.     _Yeah right_.

Still, Cersei was determined for her boy to become a star and as the Lannisters were big investors then by all means he would cater to them with this menswear line.  Besides, it would only add to his own wardrobe. Petyr had produced an exceptional Damask evening jacket with himself in mind.

He waved a hand in dismissal. “Get a coach to train them. I want to see the girls.”

“Out!” Ros yelled at the puppies and out they scrambled.

His assistant bringing in his drink was almost knocked over but fortunately the tea wasn’t spilled. Petyr thanked her as he took the cup and saucer.  
  
“Bring in the bitches.” Ros commanded.     _Ha!_    She was in a foul mood today.

“I should have said bring in the cows. They’re all huge. Why you insist on using plus sized girls is beyond me.”  
  
Petyr suppressed his laugh as the rail thin girls walked in and stood in a line before them. True he wanted his models to have a bit more meat on them but most models were practically skeletons in the first place. His clothes created womanly curves and hugged and forgave in all the right places while still being sexy and sophisticated and he didn’t want hipbones jutting out and deep-set collarbones and sharp elbows messing up his aesthetic.

The girls were all adequate if a little bland. Where the hell was his muse! All the great artists had a muse.

His debut collection was such a smashing success and there was a lot of pressure to ensure this too would be a triumph. Not that he was worried.  
The clothes were sublime, of course they were, he’d designed every piece. But he recognized he needed a new draw, a little edge. That could only come from having a face for the brand. Cersei was determined that Joffrey be the face of the men's line but Petyr knew the women’s was by far the more important.

He quickly ran through supermodels names in his head. There were one or two who would do but he wanted someone new, someone fresh.  
He needed to discover and create the next big "It Girl".

 

The doors to the workshop banged open. A trio of lions strutted in.

Tywin and Tyrion Lannister and Cersei Baratheon wore grim faces. A husky, little man Petyr assumed was an accountant and mousy woman he thought was an assistant accompanied them.

Tywin Lannister, head of Lannister Inc. which included Cersei’s modeling agency, Jaime’s event management and securities firm and formerly Tyrion’s production company.  
Unfortunately Hollywood had decided Tyrion’s artsy, abstract movies were not to their liking and the company had floundered though the Lannister PR machine had spun the story that Tyrion was taking a break. They were trying to find him a place at the modeling agency but in his depression he was bedding the girls and allowing them to run riot. Missing casting calls and bookings. Cersei was furious.

_Time to kiss some lion rump._

Petyr and Ros walked over to them. He welcomed them with an open arms gesture and bowed slightly.  
  
_Petyr Baelish the Gallant._  
  
He kissed Cersei on both cheeks as etiquette demanded and complimented her beauty. The Lannisters didn’t bother to introduce their companions but he spared them a kind glance.

Cersei looked over the models in disgust. ‘Why do you insist on using sows Petyr?”

‘I’ve told him myself and it uses more fabric if they are a size or two bigger.” Ros huffed.

Tywin and Cersei gave her a cold eye and she snapped her mouth closed.

“These are the fattest girls I have and I would not tolerate them but for you.” Cersei continued as if Ros had not spoken.

“I’d still fuck them. All of them. At the same time in fact.” Tyrion declared.  
  
Tywin Lannister gave his son a look that could _**melt fire**_ and turned his stare back to Petyr.

“We have a lot invested in you Baelish.”

“Trust me my friends! I’ll not fail you.”

“We are not friends Petyr. We’re business associates.” Cersei snapped.

Urgh, to look at her you’d think her a golden goddess. She seemed warm and personable and she was – in interviews for the benefit of the public but really she was an ice bitch through and through.  
Lazy in bed as well. She might think herself a lioness but truly she was an overindulged housecat. She had been a supermodel for a number of years mostly thanks to Daddy’s money and influence but she was past her sell-by-date. She had been idle and bitter for a few years raking her claws and shredding the Lannister reputation until finally Daddy gifted her the modeling agency. Being a natural bully Cersei had delighted in terrorizing the models.

Still, how many men could brag they’d fucked the Queen Bee up her tight ass? Literally.    _Maybe Jaime for two_ ,  Petyr rued.

 

Petyr brushed off the rebuke with good grace and walked the Lannisters through the couture garments and men’s apparel. He then presented Tywin with two custom suits.  
A beautiful light grey pinstripe with silver thread and ice blue tie and a black pinstripe with magenta thread ( Petyr was mad for pinstripes! He had been nervous about the pink but he reminded himself he had balls of steel ) and green tie to match Lord Lannister’s eyes. Tywin seemed pleased though you could never tell with him. 

Petyr turned to Tyrion. “I would of course be honoured to create something for you to wear.” Tyrion nodded his thanks.

Cersei laughed. “Since when do you make children’s clothes Petyr?” 

“Were you thinking of making him design a line for you sweet Sister? Whore Wear is a catchy name though I fear not very high end.”

“Enough!” Tywin bellowed.

They were giving him a migraine but luckily Daddy Lannister had had his fill as well. They discussed a few more particulars then Tywin and Tyrion departed. Cersei took Petyr’s arm as they strolled to his office. The little man and mousy girl followed. 

“Stay here” Cersei barked at them as she sailed through the office door and Petyr closed it after himself.

 

“The little monster is working my last nerve!” she exploded. She threw herself on his chaise. 

_Mind your heels! I just had it reupholstered!_

Petyr smiled through gritted teeth.

“Give him time.”  
  
“With anymore time he’ll completely ruin my agency! I’ve had enough negative press from him turning my property into worthless sluts!” 

“Cersei we need to talk. I need a head model.”

“Oh not your muse bullshit again! I can’t find anyone with potential while Tyrion is on my back.”  
  
“Tyrion needs a project. You need to keep him busy.”

“With what? I don’t trust him to do anything.”

The gears were turning in Petyr’s head. He needed the Lannisters to think him invaluable.

“The campaign. Put Tyrion in charge. He was a director and after all he doesn’t have a bad eye.”

Cersei considered. “His movies were disasters.”  
  
“The stories were disasters but the direction and cinematography were good. It’s a fashion campaign and we have a concept. We’ll give him the guidelines and make it seem as if he has creative control but ultimately we’ll be pulling the strings.” 

 Cersei nodded. “Keep him on a short leash. I won’t have him ruin Joffrey’s stardom.”

“All will go well. We’ll hire the right supporting team and we won't allow him to fail. After that maybe your Father can get him started with his own photography or videography business. That should keep him occupied.”  
  
Cersei stared at him open mouthed for a few beats and then flung her arms around him.

“You are brilliant!”

She reached to cup his cock.

“I’ve missed you. Has Bigfinger missed me?” she squeezed him.

Petyr gave her an indulgent smile.  
  
“Oh course Darling. I ache for you.”

Cersei gave a satisfied smile and then withdrew.  
  
“Robert is still suspicious.” She meant Jaime. Robert was too busy fucking his way through the continent to care what his wonderful wife did.  
Dear brother Jaime however had caught onto them somehow. Idiot Cersei must have had a few slips. Petyr was grateful though. He couldn’t dump her without incurring some wrath.  
No good for business, no good for him.

“Damn Robert! I want you!”  
  
_Petyr Baelish the reckless, ardent lover._      Petyr had to use every ounce of will to not burst out laughing.  
  
Cersei was in his lap giggling.  
  
She nipped at his ear.

“You’re a bad, bad man Petyr Baelish.”

“You know all about it.” He slid a hand up her thigh. Cersei threw back her head in anticipation.

“First though Darling, we need to conclude our discussion. I need a face.”  
  
Cersei jumped up with a screech.  
  
“Dammit Petyr!” she exploded but then stilled for a few beats.  
  
She turned to him eyes blazing.  
  
“I have the perfect girl.”

Petyr Baelish was suddenly very nervous. He didn’t trust the sudden feverish excitement in Cersei’s eyes.  
  
“Who?”

“You’ll love her…she’s a ...little dove. I’ll send her over.”  
He was about to protest when Cersei pulled up her skirt and pushed her panties aside.  
  
“Shut up and eat now.”

Petyr growled, then seized her and threw her back onto the chaise. He got on his knees and spread her legs wide.  
It was lunchtime after all.

 

Cersei had squealed loudly as he made her cum three times. He was about to gag her with his cock when she conveniently remembered the two plebeians waiting outside.  
He couldn’t really blame her. Petyr loved giving her facials without warning. Too bad Cersei didn’t swallow. Spitters were quitters in his book.  
Most of the time it ended up in her hair.  
By accident of course. He couldn’t be expected to control the spray.

She fixed her clothes and let the two red faced servants in. It was clear they had heard everything but there was still details to attend to and the rest of the meeting was all business.  
  
Cersei departed with a peck to the mouth and the promise to send him a gift very soon.

 

Petyr had a productive rest of the day but his dick kept twitching in his pants. He briefly thought of Ros but quickly dismissed it. Best to keep it professional. She was his right hand although there had been a time she had used her right hand on him.  
His still had a weakness for redheads. 

He thought of his assistant. She’d given him a few looks and he could tell she was willing but again a little too close. Plus she was good at her job.  
  
He settled on the receptionist. Blonde with big boobs and a slight resemblance to Cersei. They didn’t really interact much. She handled general affairs and reported to Ros. Perfect.

 

Petyr asked her to stay late and he worked well into the night. After a certain time he ordered dinner for them and after some conversation and encouraging touches from her, he made his move. She happily responded and after the first round Petyr wondered why the hell he hadn’t fucked her before. Not that she was anything special, it was all him.

He brought the thunder. He was the mutherfucking thunder!  
  
Round three they were both completely naked and sweaty, he had her bent over his desk and he was pounding mercilessly into her while classic music played lightly in the background.  
He thought he heard some faint noise in the hallway but dismissed it as the janitors. She was moaning so loudly surely they would know better than to interrupt.  
Ha! Let they interrupt; he didn’t mind giving them a good show.  
  
Vaguely he heard his door opening but he was so intent on his pleasure he ignored it. A few moments went by and suddenly a loud, crashing noise startled him. He extracted himself with a plop and the girl muttered in displeasure.  
Petyr turned around to yell bloody murder at the culprit and stopped dead in his tracks.

Long pale beautifully shaped legs, startled blue orbs in a lovely face surrounded by cascades of red greeted him.

 _Holy fuck_.    His mind went completely blank.

Who was this heavenly creature?

He prayed for one answer. He knew the answer.  
She had to be his muse.


	2. Oh shit baby boi -  you done f*cked up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited Chapter One a bit. Thanks to smokeandstark I realized I needed a bit of music in here. I don't have a broad knowledge of music being mostly a punk rock/ rocknroll fan, so I appreciate suggestions. 
> 
> Petyr's most pointed thoughts are in italics.
> 
> Music lyrics are bolded and in italics.
> 
> Thanks for reading.

The blue-eyed nymph stared at him open mouthed.  
She looked almost comical but he was sure his hard, glistening cock bopping up and down looked even more comical.  
Still, his body was a wonderland; he had nothing to be ashamed of.

His blonde receptionist finally turned around and shrieked upon seeing the girl. She scrambled after her clothes.  
Both Petyr and the deity ignored her.

He walked slowly towards her. Mind whirling, he calculated how best to approach.   
She was dressed in a short, white eyelet frock which displayed her long legs beautifully. Blue ballet flats completed the demure look.  
He'd have to gamble. Nothing risked, nothing gained.

  
“See something you like Sweetling?”

She was turning as red as her luscious locks but she quickly retorted.

“I’m not sure, used goods aren’t that appealing to me.”  
  
“When merchandise is this enticing you can’t expect a few potential buyers not to try it out.”

“Is it for sale? Anyone would be weary of merchandise that was rode hard and put away wet.”

Petyr threw back his head and laughed. He stepped forwarded almost menacingly.

“I haven’t put away anything Sweetling but I can put it somewhere else – just say the word.”

With her eyes she traced the scar running up his broad chest. Petyr tried not to flinch.

"Careful, unless you intend to add to your... mural," she purred with narrowed eyes.

He winked. 

"I'll take anything you'd like to inflict on me Sweetling. I'd wear it as a badge of honour."  
  
She tried not to laugh, tried to be stern. She almost reminded him of someone else... 

"You might find yourself with more badges than you can handle."  
  
"Not likely, I was a boy scout. I earned them all."

  
  
The blonde, now haphazardly dressed was trying to sneak out.  
  
“Not so fast Darling. There’s a document I need you to type and email to Spain.”

 Both she and the girl stared at him aghast.

“She’s your employee?” his ingenue muttered in disbelief. Petyr ignored the inquiry.  
  
“I did say you were working late. I meant that in every regard. Now be a Dear and send that off.” He smirked handing her a piece of paper.

Blondie stalked off.

  
Petyr turned all his charm back to his pretty redhead.

“Alone at last Sweetling.”

That pink flush was so adorable. Sparring words like a lioness but the embarrassed blush gave her away. She was still a cub.  
  
“I have to go.” She blurted out.

“But Sweetling! You just got here. Besides, you look hungry and we have plenty of food to spare. Or if you’re hungry for something else…”

Petyr gave his hips a little wiggle.  
  
“My eyes may be too big for my stomach.”  
  
“You’d be surprised. One taste and you can make anything fit.”

She raised her eyebrow. “Or maybe what you’re offering isn’t that tempting.”  
  
_As if !   Gurl bye._  
  
He dropped his playful tone.  
  
“I’m offering you a job. Are you interested?”

“I was looking for a job but I’m not interested in becoming involved with some playboy or sugar daddy or whatever you are.”

_Ooohhh I do like the term playboy_

“Oh Kitten, retract your claws. Look at me. I don’t have to pay for it or force myself on anyone. A girl would be lucky to land me, if only for a fleeting moment.”

She looked as if she was going to argue but upon inspecting his still erect penis again she bit her lip.  
  
“Where is your professionalism?” she wondered in disbelief.

“It will be evident in the paycheck you receive. For your modeling services. That’s why Cersei sent you.”  
  
“I don’t think I care to work for someone of your… reputation.”  
  
Petyr smirked, quickly picked up and scrolled through his iPod attached to the system speaker network.

 _ **Joan Jett and the Blackhearts’ "Bad Reputation"**_  blared on.  
  
“I don’t give a damn about a bad reputation Sweetling.” he simpered.  
  
Sansa huffed then gave him a condescending smile.  
  
“That’s obvious and my name isn’t Sweetling.”

She spunned around and strutted off.  
The die was cast and he was losing but the game wasn't over yet.

 

“Wait! ”  
  
Petyr ran after her, balls slapping.

“What is your name?”  
  
She turned and stared him directly in the eye. He noted then they were the same height.

“My name is Sansa Stark. “A girl can do what she wants to do and that's what I'm gonna do” and I have my good reputation to preserve and uphold.”  
  
Petyr stood slack jawed as she walked off.  
  
_STARK? STARK?!_

_Fucking Cersei._

_STARK?!!!!!_

 

*** 

 

His alarm went off but he slapped it quiet. Minutes later, without warning, sunlight ripped into his dark bedroom and pierced through his eyelids.  
  
“What the Fu – “  
  
“Language!” the tall, blonde man teased.  
  
Petyr had some more language in mind for the intruder. Language that would need to be censored if broadcasted on TV.  
  
“You’re late. Hangover?”  
  
“I partake but I never overindulge.”  
  
“Except on pussy.”

Petyr shot daggers at the man who only laughed in reply.  
  
“You’re giving me 50 extra pushups and 50 extra lunges for a start. If you take more than 5 minutes to get your cute butt in gear I’ll make you run an extra mile as well. Hurry up now.”  
  
Petyr slumped back as Olyver tapped his foot impatiently.  
  
Normally Petyr bounced out of bed every morning cartoon ninja style. Today however, all he wanted to do was turn over and pull the covers over his head.  
  
“I see a fat roll,” Olyver sang as he exited the room.  
  
That got him out of bed fast enough. Petyr examined himself in the mirror.

“Twat” he sulked after Olyver.

  
  
He had had to run that extra mile after all. The whole session had been lackluster with him sluggish and slow. Olyver had not been impressed. Personal trainers - give them 100 days of perfection you get mild praise. One bad session they would have you feel like you just sacrificed their firstborn to the dark lord. 

The blonde taskmaster had forced a wheatgrass shot down his throat and then departed leaving behind a protein kale smoothie. Petyr had taken one sip, thrown it out into his potted plant than mixed himself a mint julep.  
  
_Good Morning Maker’s Mark_

 

He’d taken his shower but didn’t have the heart to go through all the settings as was his routine. Usually he liked to start with the High Full Body Coverage, then alternate between Pulse Massage and Center Spray and finish off with Mist.  12 Setting showerheads really should be a right not a privilege. 

He wiped off the steamed up mirror and instead of smirking and pulling his usual faces of satisfaction and conceit he only stared back glumly. Perhaps it was time for Botox?

He didn’t use his clay mask and decided not to shave today. Let the world see he was troubled. One look at his pores and the world would weep.  
  
_On second thought!_  
  
He applied the mask. What if the paparazzi were outside his buildings? He couldn’t afford to end up a scary sight on the pages of some sleazy tabloid. It wasn’t Halloween.

  
  
Time to get dressed. Usually the favorite part of his day. Each morning he practically skipped into his custom, enlarged, walk-in closet and let his fingers dance through the garments in excitement.  
  
Today however he plodded in and looked around listlessly.  
  
He picked up the sleeve of his Pucci kimono. Yes kimono, he looked better than any woman ever did in it. Andre Leon Talley had once given him an envious glance while he was flaunting it.  
_Not today sweet friend_      He smiled sadly as he stroked the sleeve and placed it back gently.  
  
Perhaps his vair cape? It was boiling hot but he was Petyr Baelish. He could wear fur in the dead of Summer. No, too many good memories in that.  
His new tartan poncho was calling his name but he wanted to save it for a happier time. If that were ever to befall him again.  
_Hope springs eternal_

  
A dark somber suit then? Fuck that shit! Nobody had died after all. He'd only been knifed in the soul - again.  
  
Emo was the order of the day so he donned his black leather kilt and black tee with black leather studded jacket. He briefly debated letting his balls swing free but ultimately pulled on black leather meggings (leggings for men). Commit to the look or go buy an off - the - rack outfit!    _Shudder_

He pulled his necklace with mockingbird pendant over his head. To thine own self be true. 

He felt incomplete. He thought of applying some black guyliner but instead went with the soft brown eyeliner. A bit more subtle but it still made an impact.  

 

***

  
  
Ros was standing at the receptionist desk chatting to Blondie as he entered. Petyr clicked the remote for the sound system.  
  
**_“Hello darkness, my old friend”_** moaned out.

_Indeed_

Ros gave him a good up and down then turned on her heel and stormed off yelling;

“Not today. Not again and not to-fucking–day thank you very much, I reject this malarkey completely and utterly.”  
  
_Peter Baelish, the misunderstood rebel without a cause_

 

Petyr sighed, pouted and stuck out his hip. He rolled his eyes, catching a glimpse of the receptionist he fucked the night before and quickly sped off. Not an ideal place to throw a temper tantrum.

He traipsed into his office. His assistant followed shortly with his decaf peppermint tea.  
  
“I’ll have an espresso today.”  
  
She gasped.  
  
“That was a bit dramatic but I agree. Perhaps a latte would be better.”  
  
“You never drink coffee,” she sputtered.  
  
“I need it today” he told her grimly.  
  
His cellphone rang and Cersei’s name flashed up on the screen. He noticed then there seemed to be a few missed calls…

"Not today thank you very much. I reject this malarkey completely and utterly." he muttered to himself.

He forced a smile onto his face.  
  
“Good morning Sunshine of my life.”  
  
“You fucking idiot. What the hell are you playing at?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hahaaha sorry if this was a bit emo. No real plot advancement just some fodder. Don't feel too sorry for our Mockingbird, he secretly enjoys the drama.
> 
> I wrote this keeping Aidan's portrayal of Stuart Alan Jones from Queer as Folk UK in my mind. One of my favourite Aidan roles. Both SAJ and Petyr are naughty schoolboys but Petyr is less petulant. My idea is that, when caught out in a scheme Petyr employees boyish charm and deflects to escape punishment whereas Stuart sulks and tries to pass the blame. Both such charismatic bastards you can't stay angry at them for long though ;)


	3. Chaos is a laddahhh.....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the best article I've read in a long time http://fashionweekdaily.com/true-life-im-a-rich-kid/  
> Petyr Baelish Junior or Petyr Baelish come again in the 21st century. LOL
> 
> This little clip is basically a summary of this fanfic/ the essence of Petyr in the fic; https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qfwT-iX6Ibw

“You fucking idiot. What the hell are you playing at?”

As far as lines of seduction went, it was one of Cersei’s better attempts.

“I could ask you the same thing. Stark?” he spat.

“Surprise” she laughed.

_Bitch_

“Yes I was rather.”  
  
“So was Sansa. Really Petyr? Fucking the staff?”  
  
He sighed.  
  
“You left me with blue balls Darling, besides she was eager to earn some overtime.”

Cersei snorted then turned serious.  
  
“Well the little dove is not eager to return to you.”  
  
“Funny, I thought you were the boss Cersei.”  
  
“Careful Petyr or you might end up with no balls,” she hissed. “I’ve spoken to her. She’ll be back later today. Don’t frighten her off again will you?”  
  
Before he could reply the line went dead.  
  
Petyr stifled the urge to throw his phone across the room. But it was platinum and engraved with his signature mockingbird with an emerald for the bird's eye. It had cost a fortune.  
Before he could begin to brood his assistant ran in.

  
  
“The Editor just walked into the building.”  
  
“What?!” Petyr jumped up nearly knocking his chair over.

“The interview was rescheduled to today. I marked it on your calendar.”  
  
_Fuck_

“Get Ros to stall him.”  
  
She hesitated.  
  
“Now!"

She ran off like a scared rabbit.

God he looked a mess plus Emo was so 3 seasons ago! He thought quickly and yanked a bottle of black Chanel nail polish out of his desk drawer and started to paint. Grunge.  
He could work with Grunge.  
A minute later he was finished. Thank God he was so dexterous. The ladies thanked the Heavens for that too.

He could hear Ros’ fake laughter through his door. Where should he place himself? He decided to pose standing out the window looking out at his magnificent view of the City.  
The stance was cliché but the view could never be. 

Without knocking, Ros walked the Editor into his office.

Petyr turned and beamed.  
  
“Hello old friend.”

Varys gave him the kind of smile he imagined sharks sported before biting into their victims. 

“My dear Petyr. You looked a little… tired.”  
  
Petyr felt bags erupting under his eyes. He stretched his lips.  
  
“I ran out of concealer this morning.”  
  
“Mac?”  
  
“Nars. Though in time there will be Baelish cosmetics.”  
  
 “Ever the ambitious.”  
  
“You know all about it.” Petyr jeered.  
  
A dark shadow crossed Varys face but he wiped it away and fixed a genial mask on. Petyr chided himself for his brashness. This was a man with some influence in their small world.  
  
  
Varys – no last name, _Cher wannabe_ \- and Petyr had a long history.

Nicknamed the Eunuch, accounts varied as to how he acquired the moniker. The most popular theory was an accident with some gardening shears during his youth.  
  
Varys had once been a prominent name in the fashion industry. He’d snatched up a young Petyr Baelish after seeing a showcase featuring the Mockingbird’s designs while he was still in school. Petyr was his protégé for years. Varys groomed and nurtured and cultivated his talent or so Petyr thought.   
He was grateful until the day he flipped through the lookbook and realized the label should read Petyr Baelish not Varys. All the money and prestige was being siphoned to a lesser man.

The epiphany sent a cold fury through the Mockingbird and a coup was orchestrated before you could say "Et tu, Brute?”  


And so the protégé became Varys downfall. After all, the Lannisters couldn’t be expected to invest in more than one fashion designer.

_Petyr Baelish the Enterprising Entrepreneur_

The coup de grâce had involved some nasty business with Anna Wintour. Somehow a song, most distressing, had been sung in her ear and she turned against Varys.   
With her, turned the Buyers so no store or boutique would carry the range and so very little consumers had access, which meant no sales. No sales, no profit, financing was withdrawn.   
A sad tale with the Eunuch dropping off the face of the earth while Petyr Baelish made his presentation to and secured the backing of the Lannisters.  
  
Then a ripple in the still water. Out of the abyss Varys had emerged with a network of spies “little birds”. The ripple turned into a tsunami. He had taken over the tabloid rag “Spyder” and turned it into an elite, fashion celebrity lifestyle magazine to rival Vogue. "Spyder" was respected, Varys' opinion esteemed.

Wintour had been… vexed to say the least but now there were new ballads that stayed her hand.   
As for Petyr, he quaked in his Valentino boots for two seconds before remembering he’d single-handily destroyed the man’s empire once and if need be he would again. He was under no illusions. Varys was back with full agenda but revenge would be the primary objective. Petyr knew his name was first on the hit list.  
  
They were masters of the game though. Varys observed the old proverb; revenge is a dish best served cold while Petyr embraced keeping his enemies closer. Varys couldn't outright attack him, it would look like a petty vendetta and Petyr never played a hand until he was sure of his opponents cards.

This interview would bring press to Petyr’s upcoming show. As a new brand he needed every bit of publicity to establish himself. He’d have to tread lightly but it was all a part of the game.  


Petyr offered Varys a seat. 

“So a cosmetic line and what else?”  

“Fragrance, skincare, homeware – a whole lifestyle brand really.”

“Interesting. Do you have samples?”  
  
“Most are still ideas my friend but as you can attest I can make dreams become reality very quickly.”

“I admire your industry.” Vary remarked insincerely.

_Yeah you jelly_

Petyr preened.  
  
The blonde receptionist entered with a tea tray. Petyr took the opportunity to stare down her blouse as she set the tray down and thanked her. He watched her backside as she exited.  
  
“She seems competent.” Vary observed dryly.  

Petyr shrugged and held out a plate of delicate eats.  
  
“Pineapple and cucumber sandwich?”

Varys declined with a gesture.  
  
“Fond of blondes are you?”  
  
Petyr chewed his sandwich slowly.  
  
“There’s been talk that you and a certain blonde... patron, have become admirers of each other.”  

He swallowed while looking at Varys thoughtfully.  
  
“A grasper from a minor house, with a major talent for befriending powerful men and women.” Varys sneered.

“You were once a boy from modest means and befriended powerful men and women. A pity you did not have the talent to keep them.”  
  
“I find I like my new role a lot better. I’ve outgrown bowing and scrapping to keep your benefactors happy. It’s nice to not have to serve anymore.”  
  
“There’s serving and then there’s being a servant."

“Hmmm…so the Queen hasn’t declared a new King? Joffrey Baratheon?” Varys inquired.

 _Chile please, what would he be King of? A class of Kindergarten children? Perish the thought. He’d have them sobbing and trying to climb back into their Mothers’ wombs._  


Petyr gave his best Mona Lisa impersonation.

“You aspire to rule yourself?”  
  
“Whomever the new King… long may he reign.” Petyr smirked.

Varys shook his head ruefully.

“What about a face for your brand? You’ve been looking.”

“My, your little birds have been busy. Well I’ve never been one to pass on an opportunity. If inspiration presents itself, I am but a slave to the gods.”

 “Who are you considering?”

 “Everyone, anyone, the whole idea.”

Varys gave him an irritated look. “Margaery Tyrell? Loras?”

“Oh please!” Petyr burst out in indignation. “They are far too bohemian hipster. Too Free People.”  
  
_Oh shit. Probably shouldn’t not have said that._  
  
He tried to recover.  “I’m not really into the Coachella vibe.”

 _Or the dirty lumberjack trend. What was Loras thinking with that awful man-bun and unkempt beard?_  
  
For a moment Varys forgot himself and sided with Petyr.

“Urgh, that advert with Margaery! Bare, soiled feet and chipped nails? What is her agent thinking? I’m surprised Olenna Tyrell permitted that folly.” He gave Petyr a sly look. “But she’s also not one to abide a criticism against any of her precious grandchildren.”  
  
Petyr did not want to discuss that tough, old bird.

“Olenna has always been… outspoken. But she’s an icon and her grandchildren are very attractive.  I just don’t think we’d make a... cohesive team.”

He sprang up. “I think it’s time for a tour of the atelier.” 

Varys stood up with a bemused expression. Petyr walked swiftly and he followed.

 

“I’m most excited about the neckwear – the cravats are to die for! The bowties and ties all have matching pocket squares!”

Petyr threw open a side office that displayed all these accessories neatly.  
  
“Then there are the socks…everything is of the finest quality and the highest materials. I’d like to gift you with a few items. I think tangerine is your colour.”

Petyr seized a pair of tangerine socks with little purple mockingbirds embroidered on and held them up to Varys’ face.

“I knew it!”

He threw them into a basket and help up more colours and items to the Eunuch.

“Oooohhh… teal is splendid on you too!”

He threw a few more things into the basket and once finished he pressed a buzzer on the wall and his assistant appeared.

“Gift wrap these for the Editor.”  
  
“Yes Sir.”  
  
He thanked her then walked Varys into the larger workshop. It was a flurry of activity.

“A little chaotic.” Varys noted.  
  
“I thrive on chaos.”

“Chaos is a pit.”  
  
“Chaos isn’t a pit, chaos is a ladder… ”

 

 

One hour later Petyr had bid Varys adieu with a gift bag stuffed with Mockingbird goods and plenty of material and quotes he was sure the eunuch would twist to his own devious end.  
  
Oh Varys would be tactful, there would not be outright warfare but he would read between the lines and maybe decipher the strategy.

The Tyrell slip had been a mistake but he could always smooth things over with that old peahen Olenna if it came to it.

And if Joffrey failed, Loras might be a substitute. He’d have to have a shower and comb his hair first though.  


Tywin Lannister would not allowed his investment not to bring him dividends, grandson or no grandson. Cersei would be wroth but it had been a while since he allowed her to use a riding crop on him. She too could be placated. There were always ways and means to compromise with everyone while he still got everything he wanted.

His scheming made him weary for once. Usually it was the zest he savoured. He needed a nip of Bourbon and a nip of sleep on his chaise.

He was on his way to his office when Ros stepped out of hers with Sansa Stark in tow.  
  
_Gods! She was beautiful. Ethereal!_

“Your Muse is here. I thought it best to keep her out of sight until the Editor left.”

Sansa greeted him with a sullen look.

_Gurl you better check yourself before you wreck yourself._

Petyr simply tossed his head and refused to look at her. He addressed Ros.

“Have her measurements and all other particulars taken. Then arrange a spa visit. Those split ends need to be trimmed and – well let’s just say Illyrio’s team have their work cut out for them.” Petyr gave her a sparse glance. “Make it an all day trip, they’ll need the time.”  
  
Sansa gasped aloud but Ros simply nodded then steered her off. Sansa looked back with an outraged expression but Petyr walked on to his refuge.

He’d just poured himself a healthy dose of liquor when his assistant interrupted.

“Tyrion Lannister called. He wants to meet tonight.”  
  
She handed him a note and Petyr slouched back to read it. He quickly bolted upright.  Tyrion wanted to meet at the club and they would be joined by the Red Viper?

What did business did SunSpear Records have with him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chaos is a laddahh! I always crack up when I see thoses memes or scroll through tumblr.
> 
> You can read the Petyr/ Varys dialogue with Eminem - Love The Way You Lie ft. Rihanna in the background if you like. Their love story is a bittersweet song. Are there any Petyr/ Varys fics? Hee hee
> 
> This was hard to write as they spar so eloquently but hopefully I pulled it off.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	4. Welcome to the Fuckfest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Depravity.
> 
> Actually it's not as depraved as I would have liked. Needed to edit it for length and most of the smut got cut. Waaaahhhhh. What's the damn point?!  
> I figured I'd save the pussy squelching for when our Muse and Artist do the nasty - If they ever do. 
> 
> Read on if you like, it's messy.

The flashy sport cars car screamed out _**“Move bitch get out the way Get out the way bitch, get out the way!” Ludacris ft. I-20, Mystikal** _

Move out the way of that car the traffic did.  Even an ambulance jumped to the side as the Mockingbird maneuvered through.

Petyr pulled up to the club, brakes screeching in his chartreuse Lamborghini.   
  
_Nouveau Riche, flashing the cash baby!_  
  
He gave one last look in the rearview mirror. The faint glitter mask on his face looked good.  
  
His burnt sienna Halston silk jumpsuit needed a little spice even with its deep V-cut that went all the way to his bellybutton. It showed off his chest hair and some of his scar. The long rich violet scarf he draped around his neck hadn’t been enough of an accessory hence the make-up.  
  
He entered "The Den" to the tune of _**Iggy Azelea’s Fancy**_.

  _ **I'm so fancy  
**__**Can't you taste this gold?  
**__**Remember my name, 'bout to blow**_

  
_Perfect._  
  
He always had great timing.  
  
“Like the name change and facelift?” The new proprietor of the club inquired.  
  
Previously known as "The Apothecary" it had belong to an old hippie New Age Doctor called Pycelle. It had basically been an opium den and whorehouse. It was still a whorehouse but now a trendy nightclub come strip club with discreet whoring in the private rooms. Petyr smiled down at Tyrion Lannister.  
  
"I wouldn’t have chosen the name myself but the place cleaned up nicely."  
  
“That’s why you’re the silent partner and I’m the Boss”

“But no one knows that yet. Where’s our smokescreen?” Petyr asked.  
  
Tyrion pointed across the room.  
  
What a lovely smokescreen she was. A petite, fine-boned woman with soft dark curls wearing a dark dress saw them looking and smiled.  
She quickly procured some drinks from the bartender and made her way over to them.  
  
She lightly kissed Petyr on both cheeks and handed his Maker’s Manhattan to him.  
  
Petyr glanced in surprise at his drink.  
  
Shae laughed. “You looked sweet tonight so I thought something with a cherry was in order. I’ll bring you a neat later.”  
  
“Cherry? Does someone need their cherry popped? I happen to specialize in that art.” A tall, dark haired man with olive skin and an accent laughed out.  
He draped himself over Shae and hugged her close to him. Tyrion Lannister scowled up at Oberyn Martell.  
  
The Viper gave Tyrion a big friendly smile as he playfully nipped at Shae’s neck. He released her quickly before opening his arms to Petyr.  
  
“How good to see you.” Oberyn embraced him briefly. Petyr smiled non-committedly and looked back at the Dornishman silently with dark eyes.  
  
Shae sensing the tension hurriedly ushered over the party to a private booth while chatting animatedly.  
  
Only Tyrion listened and engaged with her, Petyr and Oberyn wore false smiles at each other.  
  
  
“Isn’t the DJ amazing?” Shae asked.  
  
Petyr cast a disinterested eye over the man. He looked familiar but he couldn’t place him.

 “Yes, he is quite good. Please send him over later, I’d like to meet him.” Oberyn winked at Shae.

They all looked admiringly over the sea of people. There were men of all ages, young boys and old farts – all filthy rich, young girls –clubgoers and the escorts, dancers on the stages and podiums some who also escorted, others who just danced. The attractive waitstaff and bartenders made it the place to be.  
  
  
A bevy of beautiful young girls walked past and Oberyn whistled. He bounced up immediately and invited them over.  
Shae ordered a few bottles of bourbon, tequila, champagne and mixers, as she knew the men’s tastes. As she stood up to go Tyrion grabbed her hand and whispered in her ear.  
She smiled at him before nodding and leaving.

So Tyrion was enamored with the former escort, now manager of their club. Petyr observed. He wondered if they were sleeping together already.  
Oh dear, what a dumb thought, of course they were. He must be drunk already.

Oberyn was dancing enthusiastically with several of the girls. He suddenly pulled one down into a chair and onto his lap where her breast popped out of her dress. Without missing a beat her tit was in his mouth. She squealed in indignation but a moan quickly followed.

 Some people never changed.  
  
Oberyn slipped his hand between the girl’s legs.  
  
Petyr shifted uncomfortably. He could feel himself becoming aroused.  
  
The girl on Oberyn’s lap allowed it for a moment before drawing back and explaining she wasn’t working.  
  
“I’m not one of the Dancers,” she blushed.  
  
“But you danced wonderfully with me.” Oberyn teased.

“My friends will think I’m a slut!”  
  
Oberyn pulled her down and kissed her neck. She rocked against him.

“You will be mine and they will all be jealous of you so they better join in if they don’t want to miss out.”

She giggled and they kissed.  Oberyn started whispering in her ear. She bounced up after a time and went to talk to her friends.  
  
  
Oberyn winked at Tyrion and Petyr.  
  
“It’s all arranged for later. Now, let’s talk business.”  
  
“Business?” Petyr frowned.  
  
“This is a great club” Oberyn smiled at him.  
  
“Thank you.” Tyrion interjected.  
  
“You have both done a splendid job.” The Dornishman smiled.  
  
Petyr knew better and kept his mouth shut while his mind raced. How did Oberyn know?  
  
“I did a splendid job.” Tyrion unconvincingly muttered.  
  
“I see Petyr in every drape and couch – every fabric and colour choice.” Oberyn smiled.  
  
“Of course. He was the designer.”  
  
Petyr sighed and snapped at Tyrion.

“He knows. Don’t bother pretending.”  
  
Oberyn smiled. “Petyr would never give his talents and ideas to such a degree unless he owned a stake.”  
  
The three men all eyed each other.  
Oberyn smiled pleasantly.  
  
“What I’m wondering is why you would align yourself with the Imp against the Queen whom you are fucking?”  
  
Tyrion blinked at him.  
  
“Fucking who?” he sputtered.  
  
“Petyr is fucking Cersei. “ Oberyn announced as he sat back in his chair and took out a cigar and cutter.  
  
Tyrion turned on Petyr with wide eyes.  
  
The Mockingbird shrugged as he took a sip from his Manhattan.  
  
“But you’re in bed with me! We’re partners!” Tyrion fumed.

Oberyn laughed. “Literally?”  
  
Tyrion ignored him. “We are trying to take down the bitch and you’re fucking her! What games are you playing Baelish?”  
  
Petyr gave him a long piercing look. Tyrion almost shivered. That was a Tywin Lannister stare.  
  
“The long game.” Petyr drawled and that shut Tyrion up for the moment.

Petyr gave Oberyn a blast of his ice but the prince only smiled.  
  
“Why are you here but to stir up trouble?”  
  
“Several reasons. The downfall of the Lannisters is on the list.” The Prince smiled.  
  
_Top of the list he meant_ , Petyr thought.  
  
“I understand the desire isn’t far from your heart either” Oberyn looked at Tyrion.  
  
Tyrion shifted comfortably.  
  
“I’m a Lannister. Why should I want to see my family fail?”  
  
“So you can be THE Lannister.” The Viper bit back.  
  
They looked at each other a long time.  
  
A tall, craggy faced but still handsome brunette man approached.  
“Shae sent me over. She said you wanted to meet me.”  
  
It was the DJ. Petyr now recognized him as a former rock star, Bronn, from some heavy metal rock band. They had one or two hit songs but then faded into obscurity.

Oberyn recognized him immediately and starred chatting up a storm. He had like the band but thought they had been mismanaged and was sorry they had failed. Was Bronn interested in contacting the other members and reviving the band?  
  
“Nah I’ve had my fill of them pissers. I like DJing. Easy money, easy sex from girls requesting songs” he smiled wickedly “I’m also doing other things. Photography and videography – “

Tyrion interrupted and now those two got along like a house on fire.  
  
Bronn was a welcome distraction. Coarse but amicable.

 

Oberyn sided over to Petyr.

“I heard you were looking for a muse. I’d like to throw a contender into the ring.”  
  
_Seven gods above! Were there no secrets anymore._  
  
“My niece.”

“Not one of your daughters?” Petyr expressed his surprise.  
  
Oberyn barked out a laugh.  
  
“Those wild things are becoming fighter pilots and lawyers and activists. Giving me grey hair and making me proud.” He smiled fondly.  
  
Shae walked in to interrupt.  
  
“Would you like to go to your private room?”  
  
Oberyn hopped up with Petyr. Bronn and Tyrion indicated they would follow later.  
  
  
  
The Champagne Room was large and filled with plush comfortable furnishings and state of the art equipment not to mention several poles. Oberyn and Petyr sat down.  
  
“Isn’t your niece a Bollywood actress?” Petyr frowned.

“She’s a talented girl. Pop star. Big in Dorne and big in Japan. She broke into Bollywood quite unexpectedly. Well now she wants to conquer Westeros.”  
  
Oberyn whipped out his iPhone and played one of Arianne’s music videos.  
  
Petyr looked at the great juicy breasts barely restrained by a tiny bikini.  
  
God damn if Sansa wasn’t going to shape up here was the alternative. She was a little short and voluptuous not the ideal model figure but he could make it work. Really she could work on her back first and then ride him and have those glorious breasts bounce above him.  
  
He would have to be very careful. Oberyn might not mind pimping out his niece but Doran Martell was another matter. Fucking with the family could be dangerous.  
  
Still that face and that body… he looked at Arianne’s swaying hips, the glittering jewel in her belly button…

Oberyn put his hand over Petyr’s tenting cloth and put his tongue in his mouth.. Petyr tasted wine and spices.

     Some things never change.  
  
Oberyn drew back and smiled. “You still taste of mint.”

He smiled and kissing Petyr on the ear and neck and then return to his mouth with deeper force and rubbed at his erection. Petyr put his own hand over Oberyn’s pants and could feel the throbbing. The Viper reached for Petyr’s penis, pulled him out and began stroking his length.  
  
Petyr pulled back a little so he could stare at the phone with Arianne’s image again. Oberyn sighed in frustration.  
  
“You really haven’t changed Petyr Baelish.”

  
  
They were old acquaintances. Friends really. Roommates at one point.  
  
Oberyn Martell was a protégé. He graduated school at 16 and enrolled in the Air Force much to his family’s chagrin. He lacked the discipline and he was thrown out two years later but not before earning his wings.

The Martell Empire was vast and incorporated many different enterprises. Oberyn decided to become a scientist and doctor and studied for a few years with the intent to head up the Pharmaceutical division. Then at 23 he was suddenly switch course with an interest in fashion and design where he had met 18-year-old Petyr Baelish fresh from heartbreak marred with an impressive scar from navel to collarbone.  
  
The Viper had been a few years older and Petyr was attracted to his charismatic ways and flare.  
  
After several hints and intense stares Oberyn made his move after returning from a wild night out and finding Petyr sleeping. He was only wearing boxers and Oberyn woke him by licking the length of the scar that he so admired. Petyr was half hard from a pleasant dream and allowed the Dornishman to kiss him and then jerk him off. It was dirty. It was hot.

They fooled around a bit but Petyr could never retain an erection by being with Oberyn alone. They had to have a woman with them.

They enjoyed threesomes with several gorgeous girls until Ellaria Sand entered. A striking design student she was a favourite bedmate of theirs until she officially became the Viper’s main squeeze. Oberyn kept pushing Petyr for more but he was happy to tease and play and keep the girl in the middle.

Oberyn had announced at the end of their second year he was bored and wanted to move on to the music industry. Ellaria finished her degree and was happy to be swept along but Petyr had two more years and was adamant he was staying.  
  
Oberyn unwilling to end their triad reluctantly stayed on but tensions were high, as Petyr grew weary of the Prince’s demands and clinginess.  
  
Petyr distanced himself by sleeping with other woman separately. One night he was in his cups and stumbled back to their dorm room with a certain blonde.  
Oberyn returned to the sight of Cersei Lannister riding Petyr like Seabiscuit.

He had been furious and felt betrayed by Petyr since he knew of the history and bad blood between the Martells and Lannisters but it wasn’t long before the Viper was organizing a foursome.

  
Ellaria had been delighted with Cersei’s introduction. The sight of the two women kissing and touching had made Petyr rock hard and eventually Oberyn’s desire of Petyr fucking him was fulfilled.  The four of them romped happily for a time until a dark day when Ellaria was running late at her new job and the Viper was in a foul mood.  
Cersei was blowing Petyr while Oberyn was plowing her pussy at the other end. He’d been rough with Cersei and while the little slut normally ate it up tonight she was becoming more and more distressed. After a mis-timed thrust she cried out in pain and Petyr intervened.  
  
“What? The Lion bitch can’t handle a Viper sting?” Oberyn had been outraged as Petyr forced him off.  
  
They had fought with Oberyn throwing punches and Petyr biting him while Cersei cowered in a corner. Ellaria arrived in time to distract Oberyn and Petyr cold-cocked him across the jaw.  
  
A fierce row ensued that ended with Oberyn departing with Ellaria and their friendship broken.

Petyr graduated, worked for Varys and continued his relationship with Cersei sporadically as well as anyone else he chose to sleep with. He caught glimpses of his old friend as he became more established in the music industry. Oberyn had even sang and rapped and released some albums at one point “The Prince of Dorne” and "The Red Viper" but settled on music management at SunSpear Records.  
  
There had been no meaningful contact between them until tonight.  
  
  
  
Oberyn’s sigh of frustration did nothing to help Petyr’s dwindling hard on.  
  
“Put Arianne on that.” Petyr gestured to a big screen in the room.  
  
“Even for me, I would think it demented fucking to my niece in the background.” Oberyn sighed. He stroked Petyr’s softening cock.  
  
“I missed you so much.” Oberyn nuzzled at Petyr’s neck.  
  
He sighed as Petyr gently extracted himself and put his dick away.  
  
“I can’t believe you are still fucking that Cunt.”  
  
Petyr smiled. “It is quite a nice cunt. You enjoyed it yourself for a time.”  
  
“Do you love her?”  
  
Petyr shot him a look. “Please.”  
  
“Of course. You don’t love anyone Petyr. You never loved me did you?” Oberyn searched his face.  
  
Petyr scowled. “No. I haven’t loved anyone since HER and I never intend to ever again. Love nearly got me killed, Love is bullshit.”  
  
Oberyn’s face soften and he traced the scar on Petyr’s chest.  
  
“A pity Petyr Baelish. I think you in love would be magical.”  
  
Oberyn jumped up quickly.  
  
“No sense in wasting a perfectly good evening or “ he pointed to the bulge in his pants “ a perfectly good erection. I’ll go get those girls.”  
  
  
  
Debauchery, fucking debauchery.  
  
How many girls he did not count. He ripped one condom off and immediately another was rolled on him.  
  
Petyr had snorted coke off a girl’s tit, off another’s ass and he couldn’t remember but maybe even OUT of another girl’s ass.  
  
He did remember Oberyn grabbing him and tonguing him to slip a tab of ecstasy into his mouth. That had been washed down with a bottle of bourbon and then they had poured champagne on the girls and licked that up too.

 _**Feels so good getting what I want, yeah  
** _ _**Keep on turning it up  
** _ _**Chandelier swinging, we don't give a fuck** _

  
  
At one point Tyrion and Bronn had entered but quickly backed out with a ‘WHOA!” upon seeing the chaos.  
  
A bong had been floating around and Petyr took a few hits. That led to the munchies and ordering grub and suddenly there was a food fight. The place was in chaos.

Hours later Petyr and Oberyn left some money at various points around the room. They departed the room leaving snoring, naked girls on every surface.  
  
“They may not be hookers but they fucked like pros.” Oberyn sighed in contentment.  
  
Tyrion, Bronn and Shae were at the bar drinking. It was 4 am and the club was empty. They looked at the pair in amazement.  
  
“The room is trashed. I’ll pay.” Petyr started.  
  
“Yes you will. Later today with the biggest hangover of your life. Martell already took care of the bill. He overpaid because he knew you two would wreck the room.” Tyrion jeered but Oberyn grinned.  
He handed over a wad more money to Shae. “For the girls if they want it.”  
  
“Seven hells! What did they do to earn this?” Shae gasped.  
  
Oberyn laughed, “It’s more what we did to them.”  
  
Shae called them a cab and promised Petyr his car would be taken care of.  
  
  
  
Petyr and Oberyn stumbled into the Mockingbird’s home. Oberyn was still swigging from some bottle. They tripped into the bedroom and Petyr turned on the light.  
  
A groan came from the bed. Cersei stirred. She rolled over dressed in a skimpy black leather dominatrix outfit, nipples exposed with thigh high boots and a riding crop in her hand.  
She sat up and gaped at Oberyn.  
  
She pointed the crop at him but hissed at Petyr “What the hell!”

Oberyn put his hands up in mock surrender and dropped the bottle of booze. It crashed on the floor and the glass and liquor exploded everywhere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to go for it. Let's face it, everyone wants of a piece of the Bae. 
> 
> Hell even Tywin "Spank Daddy GILF PIMP O.G." Lannister wants some Baelish-ious spread on his toast know what I'm saying?
> 
> I know there are ppl who ship Sansa with everybody and I'm of the same mindset for Pete.
> 
> This is not a love story. Petey Boy lives by his code of "Hey I have a penis and I'm going to get it wet by sticking it into every hole I can." Bless.  
> I'm drunk.


	5. Petyr B Rap

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Belated V-Day. By "V-day" I mean despairing into your Maker's Mark because Petyr's P wasn't in your V! day.
> 
> It's one of those talking, singing, occasional but not always rhyming raps. You can basically do this in an Eminem/ Jeremy Irons as Scar from "The Lion King' voice.

I’m the Pimp That Was Promised  
My name is Petyr B  
Gonna conquer the world with pus - sy

 _“A grasper from a minor house with a major talent for befriending powerful allies” (Varys)_  

What can I say? Fools believe all my lies.

First to arrive, last to leave, he says he admires my industry  
Because the Spider wants to be me  
Impossible he doesn’t have the balls to beat me – literally

(SPOKEN)

Lowly Lord of the Fingers   
Master of Coin  
Lord of Harrenhal  
Lord Paramount of the Trident  
Titles breed titles indeed.

Lord protector of the Vale thanks to the moondoor,  
Lysa you’re a dumb whore.  
"Only Cat" then but that’s all in the past  
There’s a new redhead that makes my member a mast! 

So many tears shed…

Brandon,  
From navel to collarbone I bear your scar  
but I’ll be fucking your niece in my car (- BAM!!)

I’m sorry Ned!  
Didn’t mean for you to lose your head! (I did warn ya!) 

I’m so sorry Joffrey ( **NOT)  
** You really shouldn’t overindulge if you can’t handle your liquor

My sincerest apologies Cersei (still want to bone ya)  
What a pity you no longer have Dad - dy

Time is up Lannisters!  
Take your last roar, it’s time for the Mockingbird to soar!!!

They call me Littlefinger,  
But that name surely would not linger.  
If they pulled down my breechs  
And see what gives all the girls stitches!

It may not be a kraken but it is a beast,  
On which all the ladies love to feast!

Sansa Stark , I mean Alayne is my daughter,  
I wanna pork her,  
I’ll shoot more than just water! 

I don’t want the throne,  
Unless it makes Sansa moan    –  HARDER!

I’m playing 3 dimensional chess  
I’m the Puppetmaster  
Don’t need a crown to be King,  
You will kiss my  -  ring!

I AM the most devious man in the seven kingdoms - HA HA Petyr B!  
  
  
Stay tuned for my next track; "Your pussy is chaos, my dick is a ladder, climb it gurl!"

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Official Petyr Rap for SunSpear Records. I'm actually thinking of recording this on garageband and making a youtube vid but I'm lazy plus that shiz would be so awesome it would do what Kim K's ass couldn't - break the internet! BAM!
> 
> ETA: I'm working on the next chapter just wanted to put up this foolishness to announce I'll be back - get hype as the kids say.
> 
> Also I can't even remember posting Chapter four! Seriously! I had a wedding that weekend (Maid of Honour) and I'm still recovering from the Maker's and strippers. You just don't bounce back from a weekend in Vegas in your mid-twenties as you do in your teens I guess.


	6. The Hangover

Petyr Baelish bolted upright.  
As he reached out, his hands slipped and slid. He was on a bed of balls. More accurately he was in a pit of balls.  
Not the hairy kind one can find in a scrotum, but colourful round balls found in children’s playgrounds in places like Chuck-E Cheese or Mcdonalds i.e. places where plebeians stuffed their face holes with barely organic trash the rich and snobs refuse.  
  
_What the fuck?_  
  
Slowly, very slowly due to the pounding in his head, he turned and looked about him and stared straight into the eyes of a handsome stallion.  
No, that wasn’t a euphemism, an actual stallion, as in horse. He closed his eyes to will away the illusion but his nose soon confirmed what his eyes were seeing.  
He was in a ball pit with a horse next to him. Naked. He was naked. The horse was saddled and had just taken a huge, steaming dump next to the ball pit.  
  
  
An hour later Petyr Baelish emerged out of his bedroom wearing a Bijan robe and Oliver Peeples sunglasses.  
He walked over to the bar, poured out four fingers of Maker’s Mark into a glass then took the nearly full bottle with him to the sofa, leaving the glass at the bar.  
He turned on a whale calls soundtrack, sagged back into the sofa and swigged from the bottle.  
  
He debated checking on the horse he had stolen? borrowed? - again but decided he needed more hair of the dog instead.  
  
He rode home on the horse since he didn’t have his phone on him to Uber and there was no way in hell he’d be walking with his precious feet on the dirty sidewalks.  
The horse was a fine creature it didn’t seem to mind being borrowed. The ride had not been pleasant with his raging hangover and floppy, exposed nutsack but they made it to his house.  
Petyr had warmed some milk for the horse and given it a bowl of blueberries and hoped that would suffice for the time being.  
He figured returning “Rambo” with a pouch full of money would placate the owner. He had debated calling the horse Rover first but then settled on Rambo.

It was 9 AM. Cersei and Oberyn were passed out on the bed. From what Petyr could remember before he had wondered off on his own adventure, the two of them had made up – after Cersei had given the “naughty, rude, bad” Prince his punishment.  
Oberyn had taken his medicine in the form of a 13 inch strap on dildo, with no lube, like a little bitch. Tears had streamed down his face as Cersei plowed into him over and over. Afterwards Oberyn has thrust his own flesh dildo up Cersei’s backside. Fair was fair.  
  
_Clean up on aisle four!_  
  
He was going to have to replace his bedding, mattress, carpet  - and drapes. Repaint his ceiling too probably.  
  
Petyr was exhausted but too wired to sleep. He so regretted those bong hits, he hated the gange, it smelt terrible and made you hungry.  
He’d eaten at least two French fries and it went straight to his hips. He definitely had sodium bloat and he knew he needed potassium to counter the effect but the bowl of fruit containing a banana seemed very far away. He really couldn’t be bothered to stand up and walk 3 feet.  
  
It must have been the marijuana that had persuaded him to go to a fast food joint in the early hours of the morning. Naked.  
Thankfully the place had been closed.

The songs of the orcas were disturbing him. They sounded in distress. He’d done some research on them after watching a documentary.  
They almost always stayed in pods for life. It was heartbreaking when they were captured and separated from their family and sent to live in synthetic worlds for the benefit of human entertainment.

He was feeling old and worn out. He allowed his mind to race.  
  
His muse, Sansa Stark. He was going to have to make more of an effort with her but he was irked.  
He thought of her porcelain skin and long red hair. Those bright blue eyes and her full lips that looked so soft. She seemed so prissy and uptight.  
What he needed was one minute between her legs and that ice bitch exterior would melt. Or would it?  
He had once known a girl with that same shade of red hair who had a stone in place of a heart.  
Would her daughter be the same?  
  
  
He cursed. Allowing himself to be sucked back into the past like that. He despised weakness.  
Sansa was nothing more than a stunning face and body he would utilize. She didn’t have to fuck him but she would model and sell his clothes.  
Either way precious Sansa Stark would be his whore.

Unbidden, came the thought of her naked. Would he catch glimpses of her when she came in for fittings?  
There were items she would have to forego underwear for – for the sake of the design. What shade were her nipples? The thought had him hard in an instant.  
  
_Dammit._  
  
He thought of his conversation with Varys and then thought of Sansa again.

“Your pussy is chaos, my dick is a ladder – climb it gurl!” he rapped out loud.  
He’d have to snapchat that to her at some point. 

“That sounds promising, new song?” Oberyn inquired as he walked in.  
  
Petyr gave a start and spilled some of the bourbon onto himself. Oberyn was leaning over him in a blink, lapping up the liquor.  
He sighed and smiled at Petyr “Sticking to a liquid diet? Maker’s Mark does make for a nutritional breakfast Petyr Baelish.”  
  
The Mockingbird gave him an irritated look. Oberyn was fully dressed but wearing a pair of Petyr’s $30 000 diamond studded sunglasses that he no doubt wiped from his closet. Whatever, it was one of his cheaper pairs that he would have donated to Goodwill anyway.  
  
Oberyn sank into a chair. “Her Highness, she of the Golden Twat is asleep. Snoring, mouth open I might add.”  
  
“A woman of many accomplishments” Petyr commented sourly.  
  
“Where did you wander off to?” I turned around and you were gone.”  
  
“I’m astonished you noticed my absence.”  
  
“Only because Cersei wanted some DP.”  
  
“Little slut” Petyr sighed.  
  
“More like huge slut. She’ll be limping when she leaves.”

“She’s not the only one. I saw the way you walked - limped in here.”  
  
Oberyn squirmed in his chair.  
  
“She could have prepared me first. Warmed me up a bit. Cruel bitch. Aren’t you glad we made up?”  
  
“Very. Perhaps you can take her with you when you leave.”  
  
“A Martell schlepping about a Lannister carcass. Not suspicious at all. Though it is an opportunity to get rid of a Lannister and those don’t come around that often.”

Petyr gave him the evil eye.  
  
“I meant dropped her off - at her home. Not off her. She’s the least of your problems. Direct your ire where it’s due. Tywin or Jaime.”  
  
“But not your new BFF Tyrion?” Oberyn gave him a cold look.  
  
Petyr waved a hand in dismissal.  
  
“Playing with lions will get you mauled Petyr.” Oberyn warned.  
  
“I’m not playing with them, I’m directing. I am the ringmaster and those bitches are jumping through the hoops I set for them.”  
  
“You can’t tame a beast.”  
  
“But you can train a housecat. “Hear me Roar?” HA! More like meow. In fact I have Cersei purring more often then not.” Petyr winked.  
  
Oberyn looked stonefaced.

“Pussy may be easy to placate but what of Daddy Lannister?”  
  
Petyr gave a wicked smile.  
  
“Oh Daddy can be handled. All Daddy cares about is the amount in his bank account and unlike his suckling cubs, I’ve been contributing.”  
  
The Viper gave Petyr a rueful smile.  
  
“You have it all figured out.”  
  
“Sure do.” He drawled taking the remote and turning on the TV.  
  
  
“The Real Housewives of Highgarden “ was on but unsurprisingly Mace Tyrell was dominating the screen, trying to highjack the show from his wife Alerie and her cronies.  
  
“A real housewife that one.” Oberyn sneered at Mace’s buffoonery.

Olenna Tyrell threw a few acid remarks about her son during her talking head.  
  
“A real Queen of Thornes that one.” Petyr countered.  
  
They watched bewildered at Mace’s antics until Margaery and Loras came on. Petyr shook his head in disgust at their disheveled appearances but Oberyn perked up.  
  
“A foursome with them could have its charms.”  
  
“After you bathe and delouse them maybe.”  
  
“Isn’t Marg in the running for head model of your line?”  
  
“Absolutely not.” Petyr scoffed.  
  
“Loras for the men?”  
  
“You do realize that’s a double entendre?”  
  
Oberyn nodded.  
  
“Renly Baratheon has the biggest mouth – literally. The man has a mouth like a Hoover.”  
  
“Colour me surprised.”

“Jealous?”  
  
“Of that pale imitation of me? What’s this about the Rainbow guard?” Petyr laughed.  
  
“Renly and the Rainbow Knights. New boy band. Loras wants in too. They think they’re rock and roll but they’re pop all the way. I’m managing them. “ Oberyn winked.  
  
“Renly should stick to his tanning salons. As for Loras, oh Olenna should love that.”  
  
Oberyn shrugged.

“Hmmmm… Renly with his main cheerleader Loras and you probably have Margaery in the bag too which means you have the Tyrells. The Tyrells, who are no fans of the Lannisters." Petyr sniffed theatrically. "It that the stench of treachery and usurping in the air?”  
  
Oberyn cast a cautious eye down the passage that lead to Petyr’s bedroom.  
  
“What a keen sense of smell you have. The game goes on whether you decide to play or not Petyr Baelish.”  
  
“You’re playing checkers on a chessboard Oberyn Martell.”  
  
“What does it matter as long as I win?”  
  
“Because my dear Prince, there is only one game. The game of thrones.“  
  


Hours later Petyr was going through the contents of his fridge. What was his housekeeper playing at? He was almost out of caviar and Arbor gold.  
What was Rufus going to eat? He renamed the horse Rufus.  
He’d placed an order on Amazon for a stuffed toy unicorn, Rufus was looking lonely.

The doorbell rang. Who in the seven hells was disturbing him at this hour? It was – Petyr checked the clock -  11 o’clock on a Saturday morning after all.  
He opened the door.

Ahhhh… the bane of his existence, the boon of his soul. Dear Sansa Stark stood on his doorstep biting her lip most fetchingly.  
  
Petyr beamed.

“What a pleasant surprise. Come in my dear.”  
  
Sansa took a nervous swallow before stepping through. He closed the door and gave her a wider smiler as he wiggled his eyebrows.  
  
“ Ha ha, trapped!” 

“What?!”  
  
“Relax my dear, I was only joking.”  
  
She eyed him with irritation. He walked back to the kitchen and she followed.  
  
“Have a seat” indicating to a stool at the kitchen counter. “Would you like something to drink? I have bourbon, wine or tequila.”  
  
“Errrr… water please.”  
  
He poured her a glass of Arbor gold. She looked vexed.  
  
“You have a horse in your driveway.”  
  
“You met Romeo?”  
  
“Your horse’s name is Romeo?”  
  
“I just decided, though he’s not mine technically.”  
  
“Who does he belong to?”  
  
“Not sure, he’s just visiting me.”  
  
She blinked at him.  
  
“How can I help you Sansa dear?”  
  
Gods she was stunning in her little blue dress, that rode up to her thighs when she sat. She had on a little cream sweater as creamy as her thighs and he couldn’t help but wonder what colour her panties were. He loved to sniff at them. The colour flushing onto her face was most definitely red though.  
  
_Uh oh._  
  
“I’ve been giving it more thought. I don’t really think this is a good idea.”

He remained silent.  
  
“I just - I just don’t want to be a model. I never have. I also don’t think we’re a good fit… I don’t think we would work well together.”  
  
Petyr hid his panic by remaining outwardly impassive.

“I tried to explain to Cersei but she won’t – she insists - I thought maybe if I explained to you, you could talk to her.”  
  
“Talk to her about what Sweetling?”  
  
Sansa brows knitted together. “About this not working out.”  
  
“What’s not working out?”  
  
Sansa looked at him perplexed.  
  
“Us! Now will you talk to Cersei?”  
  
Petyr shook his head slowly.  
  
“I’m not talking to Cersei.”  
  
Sansa ‘s nostrils flared and she stood up, stepped right up to him, arms crossed.   
  
“Now listen here – “

“PETYR!”  
  
Both Sansa and his heads snapped round and they froze.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, this was pretty weak. Trying to get back into the swing of things was harder than I anticipated. Hopefully next chapter will be better!


	7. The Beginning of a Beautiful Friendship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The beginning of a beautiful friendship with hopefully some P in V in the near future!

“PETYR!”  
  
Sansa gaped at him.  
  
“Cersei?” she mouthed.  
  
Petyr grinned and shrugged his shoulders then started pushing Sansa towards the panty cupboard.  
  
“What are you doing?” Sansa asked in a fierce whisper.  
  
“You have to hid in the closet.”  
  
“I’m not – “  
  
“Darling a lot of people are in the closet at one time or another and since you seem to be resisting my charms you may have something to think about.  
Take your turn!”  
  
Petyr shoved her in without further ceremony and just in time. Cersei entered the kitchen tits out and jiggling, struggling to remove her sexy leather undergarments.  
Petyr rushed over to help and cop a feel.  
  
“Why didn’t you wake me! I am so late!”  
  
“My Golden Angel, you were sleeping so peacefully I hadn’t the heart.”  
  
In truth Petyr had forgotten she was there.  
They managed to pull off the leather straps contraption and Cersei put a jacket on.  
  
“That’s mine!” he cried indignantly.  
  
“Well it’s a woman’s blazer.”  
  
“It hugs my broad shoulders impeccably! Where are the clothes you came in?”  
  
“On your floor, covered in cum and God knows what else. Have it dry cleaned and sent back to me.”  
  
Petyr didn’t bother asking for his blazer back. Whore of the decade was a well established klepto.  
  
“Would you like something before you leave? Orange juice? Vodka? Xanax?”  
  
Cersei narrower her eyes at the glass of wine on the table but snatched it up nonetheless. “You don’t really drink wine Petyr.”  
  
She spotted the Maker’s Mark on the coffee table.  
  
“Oberyn” Thank the gods he was so quick.  
  
“It’s unlike Oberyn to leave a glass full.”  
  
“Perhaps you satisfied all his thirst my love?”  
  
Cersei frowned. “There’ll be no more of that.”  
  
Petyr smiled wolfishly and walked over to her. He stroked her hair and stood behind her rubbing his hands up and down her length, lingering at her crotch, massaging circles.  
  
“Are you sure? I heard you wanted to do an impression of the Eiffel tower?”  
  
Cersei sighed for a moment and leaned into him. Once the wine started flowing Cersei’s cunt started leaking very quickly and he was eager to take advantage.  
She looked a dirty whore with her tousled curls and smudged eyeliner. She hadn’t showered but he’d fuck her from behind all the same.  
  
“Where did you go?”  
  
Petyr tilted the glass to her mouth in encouragement. Get Cersei liquored up the right way (actually there was no wrong way as long as the grape was fermented) and she was susceptible to any and all corruption.  
  
“Got lost on my way to the kitchen. How about a blowjob before you leave?”  
  
“Oh fine.” She took a big gulp and huffed, dropping down to her knees.  
  
Petyr was astonished she was getting down so quickly without complaint. The spoiled bitch didn’t even ask for a pillow.  
  
“Ouch! My knees on this floor Petyr! I need a pillow.” Cersei whined.  
  
Her hand was wrapped around his dick and he was throwing his head back in anticipation when he caught a movement.  
Sansa had opened the pantry door a sliver and was glaring murderously at him.  
  
_Oh shit!_  
  
He had clean forgotten. These hoes needed collars with bells or a tracking device. Seriously!  
  
He grabbed Cersei and heaved her up in faux concern.  
  
“Did you say you were late dear?”  
  
“Oh yes! Tommen has a soccer match! Or a karate thing – or is it Myrcella?" Cersei hurriedly took another gulp of wine.   
"No Tommen I think! I have to go! He needs so much support and encouragement! Don't have children Petyr. If Jai - I mean Robert had not insist on them…"   
  
        _Girl stop giving yourself away!_

Mother of the decade kept babbling as she hurriedly scratched through her bag to get to her phone.  
  
"Tywin too was adamant that I "breed". My body has never been the same! I had to do the Mia/ Ana diet after Myrcella.”

_Bulimia and anorexia are not diets Hun, they are eating disorders._   
  


Petyr idly pondered that maybe he should be going along to watch Tommen too. The child could easily be his or Oberyn’s. Ha! No way was he going to a “karate thing”.  
If Tommen needed any paternal guidance he’d be happy to take him to a brothel in a few years time.  
  
The door of the pantry creaked.  
  
“What was that?”  
  
“Only the TV.”  
  
Cersei turned in time to see Margaery Tyrell simper on the screen. Her lip curled in distaste.  
“Can you believe the comparisons they make of her to me? Me! Calling her the new queen?”  
  
Petyr shook his head in empathy.  
  
“There’s gossip you are considering her as head model. I want you to nip that in the bud. Margaery Tyrell gets no more free press. Announce Sansa Stark as your muse without delay.”  
  
“Are you sure Sansa wants to do it? She seems reluctant.”  
  
Cersei returned to combing through her bag and spoke with some impatience.  
  
“What are you on about? I thought you would like her. Isn’t she a fit?”  
  
Petyr smirked in the direction of the pantry.  
  
“She needs some work, some polishing but she’s a diamond. She’ll be perfect. She just doesn’t seem very enthusiastic.”  
  
“Oh bother what she wants!” Cersei at last located her phone. “Sansa Stark does what I say. Enthusiastic or reluctant I don’t give a damn.  
I own her ass and I’ll sell it to whomever I please.”  
  
Cersei gave him a look of venom.  
  
“Stop being such a pussy and bring that little bitch to heel. Or do you want me to do your job? I’ll be glad to step in, say now if you can’t handle an 18 year old twit.”  
  
“Seven Gods Cersei!” he was quite abashed by his scheming now. He had only thought to cower Sansa; he hadn’t anticipated Cersei would say such vitriol with Sansa listening.  
Then again he knew well the Hypocrite of the decade dripped venom as well as honey from her bladed tongue.  
  
“You should eat. You’re in a foul mood.”  
  
“I haven’t the time.”  
She pecked his cheek then stared him down. “Manage Sansa, I won’t have her ruin Joffrey’s debut.”

She flounced out.  
  
Sansa emerged from the pantry and quickly backtracked as they heard Cersei storming back.  
  
“There’s a horse in your driveway.”  
  
“I know. Did he eat the apples and carrots I set out for him? Does he need more water?”  
  
Cersei clicked her tongue impatiently as she ran back out.  
  
  
Counting to five in his head Petyr called out. “It’s okay, she’s gone now.”  
  
Sansa walked out slowly.  
  
“I had no notion she was going to say all that. I’m sorry – “  
  
Sansa held her hand up.  
“I’ve heard worse. If not from her lips, I’ve read it in her eyes. I know what she’s thinking.”  
  
Petyr studied her face and his heart contracted.  
  
“Well I’m sorry from myself. For my behavior. I haven’t treated you very well.”  
  
He walked over to her and held out his hand to shake hers.  
  
“Let’s begin anew.”  
  
“Let’s begin anew” Sansa agreed but did not take his hand. “You were just rubbing on Cersei’s crotch weren’t you?”  
  
“Oh!” Petyr hurried over to the sink to wash his paws.  
  
“So you two are…?”  
  
“Fucking.”  
  
Sansa flushed at his crass.  
  
“You aren’t… in love with her?”  
  
“Ha! No. It’s just sex. “  
  
“She’s married. To – “  
  
Petyr picked up his iPod and scrolled swiftly.  
  
**“ _These hoes ain’t loyal!_ ”** sang out. Petyr pressed it quiet.  
  
“Sweetling, those vows were said a long time ago and broken very shortly thereafter. Bob Baratheon is a whoremonger so surely you can’t judge Cersei for riding a hot stud when she can get it.”  
  
She rolled her eyes. “What of Jaime Lannister?”  
  
Petyr looked at her with mild surprise. “Well I’m sure our sweet queen loves her brother well enough but… ”  
  
He pressed on his iPod again _**“These hoes ain’t loyal!”**_  
  
“Sansa darling, everyone wants a taste of the Baelishious.” He wiggled his hips and winked at her. “I reckon even Spank Daddy GILF Pimp O.G. Tywin Lannister would like a lick.  
  
Sansa’s mouth was on the floor. Petyr laughed and folded her into a warm hug. She yielded for half a heartbeat before stiffening.  
  
“I can feel your… “  
  
“You can do more than just have a feel if you like.” Petyr cackled as he withdrew. “There’s a party in my pants and everyone is invited!”  
  
He clasped her hand. “We need to spend some time together. You’ll see how much fun I am. Come now!”   
  
Sansa followed, hanging onto his hand with a bemused, resigned expression.  
  
  
He led her over and into the bedroom. Sansa stopped dead in her tracks surveying the chaos.  
  
“Oh don’t worry. We’re going to the closet. We just have to pass through here.”

“It looks like a stampede of buffalos went through here!”  
  
“Well Cersei has put on a little weight but that’s still unkind to say Sweetling.”  
  
Sansa bit her lip.  
  
“It smells awful in here.”  
  
Petyr walked over to the sliding doors and flung them open.  
  
“It smells like sex. Sometimes that’s a great smell, other times not. Now come here.”  
  
He beckoned her over to the double door’s of his custom, walk-in closet.  
  
“Prepare yourself.” Petyr warned her most seriously his hands gripping the handles. “Don’t lose your head now. Don’t get over-excited. Keep very calm.”  
  
Sansa snorted but couldn’t hide her excitement.  
  
“Is that your best Willy Wonka impersonation?”  
  
Petyr flashed all his teeth as he threw back the doors dramatically.

Sansa took a step in and looked about quite dazzled. “Oh my.”  
  
Petyr gave her the tour.  
  
  
“Organized alphabetically by designer wherever I could manage.”  
  
“Oh that’s McQueen Sansa squealed plucking at a sleeve.

“Yes dear, let’s try to look with our eyes not touch with our hands?”  
  
“Oh sorry of course – “  
  
“HA! I’m joking! Have a feel, put that fabric to your cheek. Isn’t it rich?”  
  
Sansa laughed as she floated about, stroking at various garments, murmuring in awe to herself.  
  
The sight of her in such exhilarated, girlish reverie was not only arousing to him but also made him feel… happy and content.  
  
Petyr’s brows knitted for an instant.  
  
“Good Gods! What is this?” Sansa waved a pair of bedazzled jean short shorts with a heart and a sunflower on each pocket of the seat in his face.  
  
He crowed. “Oh dear, the 90s wasn’t the best time for fashion. I was young and foolhardy.”  
  
Sansa frowned. “The 90s? I was born in ’98 so I guess I missed out.”  
  
_1998! Let her not ask me my age!_  
  
He quickly pulled out a Vivienne Westwood creation. Sansa’s jaw dropped yet again.  
  
“How do you have this!” she squeaked.  
  
_Gets them every time._  
  
She hugged the Vivienne Westwood replica wedding dress Carrie had worn in Sex and the City movie. He’d bought it to wear as a Halloween costume one year but found it was quite the pussy magnet and an excellent distraction.  
  
_Worthy every penny. Approximately 1, 570 000 pennies. Worth it!_  
  
Sansa held the dress in front of her and gazed transfixed in the mirror. Petyr was easily as bewitched. He gulped. There was once a girl with that exact shade of red hair that he pictured wearing a dress like that. And she had, when she had been someone else’s bride.  
  
Sansa was staring quietly at him now.  
  
“Mr Baelish?”  
  
“Oh call me Petyr!” he gave a roguish smile. “I was just thinking what to wear today.”  
  
"Must be a real challenge."  
  
He grabbed a pair of white jeans.  
  
“Aren’t those women’s jeans?”  
  
Petyr dropped his robe and turned buck naked to face Sansa as he tugged them on. Her eyes went as round as saucers.  
  
“No underwear?”  
  
“You want to know what comes between me and my Calvins? Nothing” he gave his best sultry pout. “Yes, I often buy women’s clothes. They accentuate my body better.”

 He turned to show her see his ass. “I don’t do three hundred squats a day for nothing.”  
  
Without warning Sansa struck out at his butt. Petyr squealed at the spanking.  
  
“Very tight.” Sansa purred.  
  
Petyr struggled to control his blushes and his delight.  
  
“Do they say the same of you?”  
  
It was her turn to blush and how he loved to see that pretty pink. He could only imagine how pretty pink her other lips were.  
  
With those thoughts he tugged on a pink t-shirt with a cupcake printed on the front very much hoping he’d have the chance to relish her frosting soon.  
Mint green Vans completed the look.  
  
“Your shoe collection rivals Cersei’s! Why do you have Vans and Converse? I thought you had to be on one team or the other.”  
  
“I'm Team Baelish. Converse for the style but they’re shit for boarding?”  
  
“Boarding?”  
  
Petyr plucked out a skateboard.  
  
“Can you ride?”  
  
“It’s more of an accessory. Completes the look. You have to commit Sansa.”  
  
She smiled wryly. “I’m beginning to understand.”   
  
“Now then, let’s off on our adventure!”  
  
He grabbed her hand as he sped to his garage. They passed a colourful array of cars Sansa longed to look at closer and hopped into a cyan Porsche 918 Spyder.

 

“Don’t you love this car?” Petyr asked over the roar of the engine as they waited for the garage door to open.  
  
“Oh it’s gorgeous.” She gave him a sly look. “A pity there's not much room.”  
  
“What are you implying? Or was that an invitation Sweetling? You’d be surprised how well I can maneuver in any space.”  
  
He leaned over, grabbed a fistful of her hair and jerked her head back, exposing her neck.  
He swiped his tongue up the length of her throat, licked along her bottom lip before catching it between his teeth and biting down. Sansa gasped.  
Goose bumps broke out all over her skin. Her nipples grew stiff.  
He slowly pulled her lip between his teeth expertly applying just the right amount of pressure. Sansa’s eyes were tightly shut and she shuddered as he released her.  
  
He did all that while still backing out the garage and swinging the car round to go down the driveway.  
  
_Petyr Baelish, Smoothest Mutherfucker in the Game.  
_  
  
He gave Romeo a jaunty wave and drove down the driveway fiddling with the stereo. Sansa could see the smug smile plastered on his face and she fumed while she pressed her lips together and tried to control her heaving bossom.  
Some rap song she didn’t recognize came on. Petyr knowingly bopped his head in time.  
  
“Oh come on! You don’t really listen to rap.”  
  
“Yeah I bust a rhyme, can’t be serious all the time.” he mugged at her.  
  
She almost choked laughing. Petyr put his hand casually on her knee. Sansa eyed it but said nothing, squeezing her legs more tightly together.  
  
They sped through the city with several cars honking in outrage at Petyr’s recklessness. He was Petyr fucking Baelish. The traffic light was always green to him - even when it was red.  
  
His hand slid further up her thigh and Sansa was just about to mock protest when they came to a sudden stop.  
She looked at their destination and turned round to face him with some irritation.  
  
Petyr smiled impishly. “Oh come now. It’ll be fun.”


	8. What happens in the Lysene bath...

Sansa sighed as she sank into the perfumed waters. Though she had been irritated when Petyr had stopped in front of “Illyrio” now that she was forced to endure a day of spa treatments and pampering she resigned herself to it.  
  
It did feel quite nice; the warm, steaming water was soothing. The bath or more accurately pool was so large she could take a few strokes in it if she wished. For now she rested back marveling at how comfortable she was. The door squeaked open and Sansa threw her hands across her body trying to shield herself. She realized she wasn’t really visible through the murky water filled with oils and minerals but she wasn’t prepared for company. They had given her a private room.  
  
Of course who would disregard her privacy but for one Petyr Baelish. The cocky bastard strutted into the room wearing nothing but a smirk on his face.  
  
Sansa eyed his naked body struggling to keep her face impassive. She had seen him naked a few times now but he still shocked her.  
  
His stance was as if he was 20 feet tall instead of 5’9 but she reckoned his large member gave him all the confidence he needed. Sansa didn’t know much about penises but even to her inexperienced eyes it looked rather impressive. She had to admit she couldn’t find him repulsive – at least not physically. He was a lean package, not beefy or rippled like some guys who flexed their muscles for her benefit at the gym but Petyr had nice definition and a cute, plump butt. His eyes, those were his winning features. They were so… animated. That wasn’t the right word. She just saw so much expression in them. Hunger, amusement, cold pragmatism.  
  
He looked hungry now and she took a nervous swallow as he slid into the bath opposite her.  
  
“What must the spa attendants be thinking?”  
  
He leered “Don’t you know Sweetling? What happens in the Lysene bath, stays in the Lysene bath.”  
  
It was the kind of nonsense she should be irked at. She should jump up and storm out but his eyes dancing merrily and were so mischievous like a naughty, juvenile boy, they prevented her from becoming truly angry. Besides, he would see her naked if she got out.  
  
He idly swam over to her looking like a crocodile with his eyes fixed on her.  
  
“That’s been true for thousands of years but it’s especially true here in Illyrio’s spa.  
  
“Yes, I saw what good friends you are.”  
  
When they had entered the spa Illyrio had given them a look of horror. “Absolutely not Petyr Baelish. We are booked to capacity today and - “ Petyr had smirked and whispered in the fat man’s ear and not a minute later Illyrio was all smiles and laughter, calling for helpers to guide and take charge of Sansa and Petyr.

Sansa frowned looking about.  
  
“Are there cameras in here?”  
  
“No but I could make a request. Did you want to make a movie Sweetling?  My – you are kinkier than I had thought.”  
  
She shook her head.  
  
“I hope you go to church Petyr Baelish or at least donate to charity. You might be going straight to hell.”  
  
“Charity? I fucked Lysa Arryn. Could there be a bigger act of charity than that!“ he spat in disgust. Grumbling he came to sit beside her, put his head back and closed his eyes.  
“Fucking her makes me the biggest philanthropist in history I should think.”  
  
“Lysa Arryn? You mean - my Aunt Lysa?”  
  
_Oh fuck!_  
  
His eyes flew open and he gave her a guilty look. “Yes… it was really awful. She damn near screeched my ears off and clawed my back to shreds. I had to get a tetanus shot and go to the dermatologist three times after.“  
  
“Is that suppose to console me?”  
  
“I mean it’s not a big deal. After all… I fucked your mother too.”  
  
“WHAT!” Sansa stood up in rage and towered over him.  
  
Petyr looked at her in awe. She was even more sumptuous than he had imagined. Small firm perky breasts with -  
  
“Look at my face not my tits you liar!”  
  
Petyr wrenched his eyes away from her lovely body. “Oh it was ages ago! Eons ago.”

His attention went to the curls at her -      Sansa yanked on his hair forcing his head up.  
  
“Gods! I don’t mind a bit of hair pulling in the heat of passion but don’t tear it out! I’m not using Rogaine.”  
  
“You didn’t fuck my mother. Catelyn Stark would never betray her husband - my father.”  
  
“You’re right. I never fucked Catelyn Stark but I sure did bang the shit out of Catelyn TULLY.”  
  
Sansa’s knees weakened and she sat down suddenly. “Tully…?”  
  
“I knew your mother, we played together as children. She was my Queen of beauty once…”  
  
His eyes looked dark and wet.

Sansa stared into the distance bewildered.  “My mother was a virgin, I mean, I always thought she was a virgin before her wedding night.”  
  
“She was until I deflowered her.”  
  
Sansa frowned still looking off. Petyr took pity.

“We were young and dumb Sansa.”  
  
“But she always lectured me. Told me to save myself for marriage, to only give my gift to my husband, how I would regret it if I didn’t… that makes her a hypocrite.”

Petyr’s jaw tightened. “Perhaps she was only trying to spare you some regret.” 

Sansa looked at him sharply. “Did you break her heart?”  
  
“The opposite.”  
  
Sansa stared at him silently. Petyr gave a deep sigh and rolled his eyes.  
  
“The cliff notes version. I was ward to your grandfather and I grew up with the Tully siblings at Riverrun. Lysa was a stage five clinger from jump but Cat was the one I wanted. I had neither the pedigree nor fortune to please your dear grandfather and Cat’s hand was promised to a Stark. I popped Cat’s cherry then Lysa’s – I was a dumb young fool, didn’t pull out of Lysa she probably clasp her legs around me like the jaws of life or maybe the crazy bitch used a tissue and turkey baster and knocked herself up. These hoes got tricks we couldn’t dream of.  
Your granddaddy was furious, forced Lysa into a miscarriage or abortion and sent me packing. The end.”

Sansa gaped at him.

 “Oh it wasn’t that scandalous. We all do stupid shit in our youth. YOLO.”

Sansa sputtered and Petyr’s nose wrinkled as he wiped some of her spittle from his face. “Say it don’t spray it.”  
  
She was as red as a tomato and he wondered if she was choking and if he’d have to give her the Heimlich. 

“You slept with my mother, then her sister and got her pregnant?”  
  
“We didn’t really have Sex Ed classes back then Sansa. The nuns were preaching abstinence but you know how Catholics are. I mean if I were a more devout Catholic I should have backdoored Lysa but again, I was an idiot and I only thought about getting my dick wet.” 

“But my mother was engaged to my father?”  
  
“Your uncle Brandon actually.”  
  
“Yes, right I remember that but he died… Wait!!! There was another story. A duel! My uncle Brandon fought for my mother’s hand against – “

Petyr looked grim. “Against a fifteen year old lovesick boy. He was twenty, twice my size and an expert thug. We fought and he broke a bottle and slashed me from navel to collarbone.”

“You were in love with her.”  
  
“Oh I was in love with the idea of her. I know that now but she chose him and after he died she chose your father. I promised her I would work hard and one day I’d be able to give her the world but she chose “Family, Duty. Honour”.

Sansa shook her head in disgust. “My mother, my aunt and you’ve been trying to seduce me Petyr!”  
  
“You can’t blame me for wanting to complete a hat trick Sansa. It’s every sportsman’s ambition.”

She sprang up with a strangled cry and he rose to comfort her but she drew back her hand and slapped him across the face. Petyr rubbed his cheek and eyed her ruefully. “Thankfully I’m getting a facial soon.” Sansa brought her other hand to his face but he caught her wrist and held her.  
  
“I am not a toy Petyr Baelish! Whatever sick fantasy or score from the past you’re trying to reenact or settle – I want no part of it. I am not my mother.”  
  
“I know that. You’re more beautiful than she ever was.”  
  
Sansa’s eyes welled.  
  
“You have a fire I never saw in her. I don’t know you Sansa but from what I’ve seen I am beginning to admire you. I – “

 A knock on the door interrupted them and before Petyr could dismiss it, two giggling young buxoms entered, wrapped in towels carrying trays laden with spa treatments, loofahs and scrub brushes. “We’ve come to administer your scrubs.” One pretty simpered. They put down their trays and dropped their towels. Petyr smiled at their naked bodies.  
  
Sansa gave one look of outrage and immediately hopped out of the pool and pulled on a robe. She hurriedly stalked past the girls to the door.  
  
“You should have a massage Sansa!” Petyr called after her.  
  
“Lighten up.” He looked helplessly at the ladies and shrugged. “Oh well, as long as you’re here.” They giggled, slid gracefully into the pool and splashed over to him.

 

Sansa fuming planned to head straight to the changing suite for her clothes then get the hell out of there. Instead she bumped and then bounced off the huge bulk that was Illyrio.  
He leered at her.

“Ahhhh! Good, finished with your scrub already? I hope you enjoyed yourself. Those girls are from Lys; they are trained in all the arts. I can do your hair now then we can put in a treatment, wrap up your hair while you get a massage so the treatment has time to do it’s magic.” 

She couldn’t protest as he swept her along and into his chair. For a man of his size he moved very quickly.

He grabbed her locks and started yanking her head as he studied.  
  
“Oh you have beautiful hair! So luscious! You just need your ends trimmed - of course we’ll still do the treatment because your hair will be going through hell the next few weeks. They’ll be teasing and blow-drying and frying your hair to the seven hells and back. I’ll give you some products to take home. Use it whenever you can. Expensive stuff but of course Petyr’s paying.”  
  
He winked at her and Sansa marveled at his ability to chatter on without drawing breath. He began to handle her more gently now, massaging her scalp.

“My, you are a pretty thing. If only I were ten years younger - ” He pointed to a picture of a handsome young man at his stand. “ – Or two hundred pounds lighter. Can you believe it? Me, in my prime. The flower of youth blooms then wilts so quickly dear. Seize every opportunity.”

He gave a suspicious look around before leaning and whispering conspiratory. “Of course I don’t need to tell you that. You’ve already begun to seize opportunities haven’t you?”  
Sansa opened her mouth to protest.

“Oh I know you have to deny it for now. Varys told me days ago, his little birds never fail. The Spyder is a close friend. An old friend too. Of course he’s not happy I allow Petyr here but he’d never deny me a chance for gold and Petyr does pay well. Of course there’s the added advantage of Varys’ little birds being able to sp– “

Illyrio stopped abruptly then smiled and laughed at himself. “I do get carried away! I must - “

“Petyr use to work for Varys didn’t he?”  
  
“Oh yes and no love lost between them but you didn’t hear that from me Hun.”

“Are they enemies?”  
  
“Frenemies. Each plotting to scalp a bitch when the time is ripe – but you didn’t hear that from me.”  
  
There were a great many more things Sansa didn’t hear from him that she filed away for possible future use and she had to admit he was a genius with scissors. She went off to her massage thinking that perhaps she would enjoy her next treatment. 

 

The masseuse a sweet petite blonde – didn’t Illyrio hire ugly women? – Exactly Petyr’s type she thought with jealousy. Then again, it seemed any pretty thing with a cunt was Petyr’s type. The nymph explained she would work her back and then place hot stones and leave her for twenty minutes so the heat could absorb and relax her muscles. She would then return to complete the rest of the massage.

After Illyrio’s chatter the masseuse’s silence forced Sansa to wrestle with thoughts of Petyr with her mother. It was repulsive but it had been a long time ago. It was hard to reconcile the idea that Catelyn wasn’t as virtuous as she had thought. Then again, Petyr was an asshole but he was charming. Even she had begun to – _NO!_ She mustn’t allow herself. He was nothing but a playboy. 

The masseuse placed the hot stones and whispered she would be back in twenty minutes then left. 

The delicious warmth melted Sansa’s defenses.

That mischievous boyish twinkle in his eye when he sparred with her. She imagined how he must’ve been as a teen and thought she could understand Catelyn’s moment of weakness and supreme reckless behavior. As a golden child Sansa wanted nothing more than to be reckless herself. She wanted to shed that golden mantle. There was no one left to be golden for, to be good for. Everyone who mattered was dead so she might as well ruin herself. Maybe that would release the Lannister claws…

She shivered as the door opened and the masseuse reentered. Twenty minutes had flown by.

A soothing pressure on her legs as the tension ebbed away. At least Illyrio hired highly skilled pretty people. Perhaps she should have requested a male masseuse. She has seen a few beautiful boys strolling around.  
Hmmmmm… never mind, this one obviously knew her trade well. Sansa sighed as she worked her way up her leg.

She was adrift on a warm cloud when she felt the lightest touch between her legs. Sansa jolted but tried to still. The masseuse’s hand must have slipped.

She was went back to kneading her thighs and just as Sansa was drifting off again she felt the unmistakable brush between her legs again far to close to her pussy to be accidental. Sansa turned around in outrage and stared right into the grinning face of one Petyr Baelish.

 “I want to lick your pussy Sansa and I think you should just lie back and enjoy it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So much for being more diligent and updating more frequently! 
> 
> Petey's still believes he boned Catelyn in this fic.
> 
> As for the last line I believe it's a pretty persuasive idea, do you agree? ;)


	9. SEASON 6 EPISODE 9 - THE PIMP THAT WAS PROMISED

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> GOT Season 6 Episode 9 Spoilers - do not read if you have not seen episode!!!!!!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GOT Season 6 Episode 9 Spoilers - do not read if you have not seen episode!!!!!!!

NOT A NEW CHAPTER - JUST MY REACTION TO EPISODE 9

 

I NOW OWN A WATERBED !!!!!!

 

I put on two pairs of underwear and I had a waterproof mattress cover on in anticipation because I know TPTWP - The Pimp That Was Promised was going to save the battle tonight - and my bed is still soaked in girl cum!!! Petyr The Bae Pimp Daddy Baelish has made me a squirter!!!

 

I literally screamed out loud when when I saw the Arryn sigil!!! I also screamed out loud again when I saw The Bae next to Sansa!

 

I bet all you Mofos SCREAMED FOR DADDY BAELISH!!!  
THE REAL MVP!!!

THE PIMP THAT WAS PROMISED!!!!!! ALL HAIL!!!!

Teabag his salty balls and deep throat his phat cock!!! ALL HAIL!!!!

Suck his asshole!!!! All the bitches who doubted it is time to toss salads you whore cunts!!!!! You punks been owned!!!!!!! YAAAAAAASSSSSSSSSS

ALL HAIL!!!!  
  
  
  
OMG AND IT'S FATHER'S DAY - BWAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAH - NO coincidence , The Bae always has impeccable timing!!!!  
  
  
  
ALL HAIL!!!!!!  
  
  
I AM SO HAPPY!!! I'm posting all over Facebook how my DILF Pimp Fictional Boyfriend came through!!!!!!!!  
  
  
YAAAASSSSSSSSS!!!!! ALL HAIL!!!!!  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Ummmm…so yeah. Petyr and Cersei…come on! Did no one else feel their sexual tension on the show? That scene where she threatens to kill him? Bwahahahhaha loved it.


End file.
